


Angel of Death

by nomsie500



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confusion, Emotionless, Mentions of Death, Nightmares, alternate dream sequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomsie500/pseuds/nomsie500
Summary: That's who he is to me. He's my angel of death.





	

I stare up at the ceiling, not seeing, not feeling. Just thinking, only thinking. All I can do is think, think about my connection to him, what it means, how it affects me, how it affects the ones I love. 

I have just woken up from another nightmare. My parents death, I've dreamed of it so many times that I have memorized it. The dream was different tonight, which is odd because the dream has not changed in the four years that I have had it. 

This time, Voldemort stared directly at me and looked like he was debating whether or not he should kill me. He took a few steps closer until he was standing in front of my crib. He looked down at me before picking me up so he could study me moe closely.

"I wonder if you are the Chosen One," Voldemort said to me.

"Now that I look at you, I feel unsure. I don't know why I feel unsure, for I have never been unsure in my life, but I do. I need to figure out why."

Voldemort pulled me closer to his chest and walked over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room and sat down.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, Voldemort staring at me.

"You're an angel of death," he says to me. "I can tell. You will be responsible for the deaths of multiple people. It will almost never be your fault, but many will die because of their connection to you. Perhaps that is why someone so small is prophesied to defeat me."

Voldemort thinks this over for a few moments before saying, "Yes, that must be it. It's the only possible explanation. I should take you under my wing, if that is the case."

Voldemort stood up and began walking out of the bedroom. I screamed.

"Now, now, little one," Voldemort whispered. "We shan't have any of that now."

My response was to scream even louder.

"Fine, fine," Voldemort grunted. "I guess I should do what I came here to do."

He set me back in my crib. I immediately stopped crying. Voldemort pointed his wand at me.

"Avada kedavra," he whispered and my world went black.

It was then I woke up in a cold sweat. I calmed my breathing and laid back down. 

I began to consider a few things. If this dream was my true memory, what does that mean about my connection to him? I would suppose that this would mean I am fated to do something I could never imagine doing, but I suppose I shouldn't think about that in too much detail right now. 

My real question is, am I really an angel of death? I ask Hermione this on our way to Transfiguration the next day.

"Why would you say that?" she asks.

"Just something in a dream I had last night," I replied.

"Well," Hermione pauses, thinking. "I think in order to be an angel of death, everyone and everything you've ever loved would always die on you. A lot have people in your acquaintance have died, but no one you truly love."

"That is true," I agree.

"You could just be an angel of death to the person you were dreaming about," Hermione says.

"That makes sense," I reply. We drop the conversation after that.

I later come to the conclusion that Voldemort is in fact my angel of death. He is the reason many of the relationships I have had with other people have resulted in death or worse. I put away the thought and never revisit it again.


End file.
